~ Fighting for my right to stay out of the mommy wars

Monthly Archives: June 2014

I have come across quite a few posts in new mommy forums where the anxious mommies to be all ask what contractions are like. A lot of the time the answer is that they are like really bad periods. To those women, I hold up my middle finger, because clearly they don’t know what a bad period IS. Trust me on this one. I deal with bad periods and I actually prefer labor. I mean, sure, it wasn’t fun, but after a few days out of the month of sheer hell, labor was like a freaking vacation.

Some would think I was over-exaggerating my pain or that labor would put my period in perspective. Maybe after nearly two years of not having one, I forget what they were like. Maybe I built it up in my mind as worse than it is. Maybe it will be easier now that I faced labor.

HAH! Leave it to Mother Nature to fuck with me and say “sorry, but you’re not getting off that easy”.

I believe I may be reminded soon of my period hell, because a few days ago I got those oh so familiar twinges. And yes, they feel like labor. Oh, and super fun fact I discovered: apparently my body could “start up” my cycle without the actual period for months before I get it for real. FML!

So while I’m suffering this hell that Mother Nature has unleashed on me yet again, let me count the ways that a period is worse than labor.

1) Cramps are unpredictable. When I was in labor I knew when the contractions were coming. I knew they would gradually get stronger in intensity and then they would stop and I would get a break. My cramps, however, have no such timing. They can crop up without any warning and be mother fucking painful so I can barely stand…and then I have no idea how long that pain will last. Could be a few minutes, could be hours. In my case I spent TWO DAYS with cramps coming in strong surges for hours. Then they would go away. Then I would wake up and think they were over and BAM! More pain. Not at all like early labor or pre-labor either. This is full-on powerful cramping out of NOWHERE!

2) Changing position does not help. In labor when the pain of contractions intensified I would lean forward or squat down. It helped take the edge off and made labor easy to cope with even in its intense moments. I tried this with my cramps. It. Did. Nothing.

3) Breathing Techniques are a waste of time. In labor I could breathe through my contractions and work with them. Tried to breathe through my cramps and it didn’t help. So sucks to that.

4) There is no peak. With contractions there is a point where you hit the worst part and then the surge lessens and dissipates. You breathe out a sigh of relief and get a few minutes to relax. Not so with cramps. They just keep coming and coming and the intensity is the same the whole time. Like transition, but with less control. Horrible.

5) They are continuous. Contractions have a beginning and an end. There is usually a 2-5 minute break between them during active labor and a longer break in early labor. With cramps there is no discernible beginning and end. It’s like one big, long contraction with several peaks and no break. The dull ache remains the whole time and can stay all day even as the surges of real pain subside. At least in labor I had a break from the pain. Even the back labor wasn’t as annoying as this.

6) Drugs don’t take it away. I know they all SAY that a Tylenol or Advil will help, but I have taken double doses sometimes (and added codeine to the equation and been high as a kite off of those pills) and it has done very little to alleviate the cramps. Now, with labor I was offered drugs that WOULD help and I turned them down, but at least you know that’s an option. With my period the doctor wrote me a prescription for Naproxen and Tylenol. So yeah, pain not being taken seriously is a major difference from labor.

7) I don’t know how long it will last. With labor I knew the pain would end when I was 10cm and ready to push. This pain could go on for a few hours, a day, two days, or the whoke f-ing week. There is no way to predict how long it will last and while labor is sort of like that too, at least in labor there is progress being made. Your body is working toward something and you can actually tell when you’re nearing the end because you’ll feel the baby coming. Not so with my period. I have no idea when my uterus is done being an asshole to me until I stop bleeding…and first I have to start that process, which could also be days away.

8) This happens monthly. Labor is something I’m going to face maybe once or twice in my lifetime, and even if I had a baby every year I would still only face it for one day out of the year. Maybe a few days if labor is long, but still it’s only a few days out of the year. My period occurs once a freaking month. So every month I get to look forward to pain of which I cannot control and have no idea of its intensity or length. Every. Freaking. Month. Put into perspective I would rather be pregnant every year, except that’s insane and kids are a lot of work. I often wonder how those Quiverfull nutjobs the Duggars manage to even have sex with so many kids, because while we do have a sex life I still often choose sleep instead. Or our son just won’t sleep long enough for us to do it. Kids are a good form of birth control is what I’m saying.

9) There is no reward. The whole point of labor is to birth a baby, which in itself is a reward for going through nine months of pregnancy. The whole time I was in labor, that was my focus. That was why I was able to hold on and take each contraction as they came. I knew that each surge would bring me closer to the moment I would get to hold my son. So I endured. With my period there is no reward. There is only the pain and the eventual blood and that’s it. With nothing to work towards all I have is the pain and misery. And all I can do is beg for the period to actually start so I can bleed for five days and then get a break for three weeks before starting the whole miserable cycle all over again.

10) Labor promised a break from my period. This is where I really feel like Mother Nature is a cruel bitch. See, when I was pregnant I got a break from the torture. I got to see what it was like to not suffer needlessly every month and after two weeks of lochia with no painful cramps I got to enjoy a full year of no period. Breastfeeding kept the little bastard away and now that my son is a year old Mother Nature has decided the time has come to put an end to my happiness. So now I’m waiting for the damn thing to start and in the meantime the cramps are once again as painful as they ever were. It makes me almost wish I was pregnant again. Almost. I kinda have this preference to have my son out of diapers before we decide to give him a sibling.

So there you have it, people! This is what I’m talking about when I say labor was no big deal for me. One time when I was cramping my boss/friend actually asked me how I could STAND, let alone WORK. She could see the pain in my eyes. She told me to go to the doctor and ask for something to cope with that pain. I did. I got Tylenol.

The cruelest part of all? I have NO reason to be having this pain. When they did the ultrasounds during my pregnancy everything was FINE. No cysts, no endometriosis. Going on birth control pills does not help. There is no medical explanation for why my uterus wants to torture me; it just DOES. Mother Nature is an evil, sadistic bitch.

Also, the cramps have subsided today. There won’t be a period this month. But it’s coming. My only solace is that I will only have maybe one or two years to deal with it, and then I get to be pregnant again and skip it for a while longer. After that, well, maybe I’ll go into menopause early? I doubt it since I started the damn cycle so late in my teens, but I can always hope, right? Then maybe I’ll stop having violent fantasies where I tear my own uterus out with my bare hands.

Before I get into this I need to clear the air. My last entry unintentionally offended a good friend of mine and I do not wish for this to happen again. Though I did not intentionally set out to hurt her, my viewpoints were taken in a way that made it seem like I judged her on her choices. The truth of the matter is that I do not judge her in any way. I respect her in her choices, even if what she chooses may not be what I would choose for myself. That is what is at the very heart of this blog, and it is why this post is being written. Choice is, ultimately, what I write about. It is what I devote my time and energy to preserve. Choice is precious and very much needs to be protected at all costs from those who would do away with it.

To be clear, this is not a Pro-life or Pro-choice issue. This is not a home birth VS hospital issue. This is not a C-section VS Vaginal birth issue. It is simply an issue of CHOICE. The freedom to choose one’s own path in the safest and most supportive environment. It is this element of choice that I fight to preserve. It is this fundamental freedom for bodily autonomy, for making one’s own decisions, that so often comes into conflict with those who would cite moral or religious reasons for its abolishment.

I believe that it is time to address the true problems with ALL these issues surrounding ALL of a woman’s choices, and that is this: It is not up to you to decide what another person should do with their body. You may frown and disagree with them, but ultimately it is still their decision. It is their decision because they, and they alone, will be the ones affected by that choice in a profound way. Trying to prevent them from making that choice will only cause undue stress and possibly more harm to that same individual.

If you haven’t seen Cider House Rules then I suggest you watch it. It is an amazing film! But here is the one part that stands out the most in it. You see, this boy, played by Tobey Maguire (Spider Man), grew up in an orphanage. He is cared for by the main doctor, (played by Michael Caine–Alfred of the Bale-Batman trilogy) who is like a father to him. Anyway, this boy, named Homer after the Greek poet, grows up to be a sort of apprentice. At this orphanage the doctor tends to the unwed mothers who seek his services for childbirth and adoption placement, as well as performs abortions. Homer does not approve of the abortion aspect of the orphanage and has no desire to learn the procedure as part of his overall training. However, one day a young girl is found outside the gates and she is extremely ill. Homer takes her to his mentor and it is discovered the girl had a botched abortion with another provider. She is now suffering a severe infection and is dying right there on the exam table. The doctor asks Homer if, had this girl come to them first, would Homer have turned her away? Because THIS is the price paid by those who are denied access to a safe facility. The girl dies almost immediately. The lesson is profound.

Choice. It’s such a simple thing, and yet so many different elements will conspire to take it away, or at least limit access to it. However, by limiting access, we make the problem worse because those who are adamant in their choice and refuse to allow an outsider dictate what they can and cannot do with their bodies will find a way. Any history book will prove that. Hell, just do an internet search!

In the case of abortion (yes, I’m going there) I can understand the pro-life movement. I have a few friends who are pro-life and while I may not agree with their methods, I agree that they have the right to decide if they would allow abortion…for themselves. To be clear, you are perfectly within your right to disapprove of someone making a choice you find “immoral” or simply “wrong”. However, the alternative that nobody seems to realize when they wish to close down these clinics is that abortion will STILL exist; it will simply be more dangerous. How do I know this? Because abortion has existed long before clinics opened up. Abortion has probably existed since the dawn of time. If you do an internet search there are tons of methods to “bring on a miscarriage”. What is to stop those desperate enough from seeking those methods? Nothing. Nothing is stopping them at all. However, these methods carry very high risks; much higher than simply going to a medical professional. But if the clinics close down and the pro-life movement succeeds in making abortion illegal, those methods will have an increase in use with devastating consequences.

This issue of choice does not only apply to abortion. It applies to birth too. If the pro-life movement succeeds, then a fetus will legally be declared a person. Pregnant women are already having their rights to bodily autonomy compromised in the form of court orders forcing them to comply with doctor’s wishes. They are handcuffed and strapped to an operating table and sliced open “for the good of the baby”. If that imagery disturbs you then I have done my job. I’m glad it disturbed you. It SHOULD disturb you. It should disturb all of us. The fact that it keeps happening is incredibly disturbing and frightening. However what is even more frightening is the pervasive attitudes of people who think that the doctor was “right” and the mother should have just done what she was told. As if she is merely a vessel; a host for this child whose rights trump her own. She must submit to the doctor’s whims simply because it’s for the good of her baby. She must not question the White Coated Savior.

VBAC bans, “routine” care and hospital policy are the enemy of the woman who wishes to birth her child without intervention. If there is even a slight deviation from a “normal” pregnancy, such as twins or breech presentation women are often “risked out”. They are told they have no choice but to have a c-section, even if a vaginal birth is actually possible for them. Our maternity system is in crisis and that crisis is on a GLOBAL scale. At the same time midwives have all sorts of regulations and restrictions placed on them or they are outright villified and made illegal. Home birth becomes “illegal” as well, even in Canada! Thankfully home birth is legal here in B.C. but I was saddened to discover this is not the case in every province. The war on midwives is too close to home for my liking. Not only that, but a good friend in the same maternity group was told that our practice would not be able to see her past 42 weeks. Knowing this, it is highly unlikely that I will go back to that clinic because the hands of the midwives are tied by the bureaucracy of the medical system. This does not support the natural process of birth as a non-medical issue, since again we are dealing with a “timeline” and a “deadline”.

But regardless of the restrictions placed on midwife practices “for our safety” the ultimate disservice to women is that our choice to go with a midwife over a doctor is still not a true choice because the same corrupt system runs the show behind the scenes. Ultimately the choice no longer becomes whether to go with a midwife or a doctor, but instead whether to comply with the demands of the system or go it alone. For myself, as risky as it may be, I would choose to free-birth, that is, give birth on my own without an attending midwife or any other medical professional, rather than give in to “the system”. Many women who were abused by that system feel the same way. Again, we are dealing with choice, and again the outcome of restricting and regulating those choices could cause poorer outcomes.

Finally, there is the choice of whether to conceive in the first place. Simply watching MTV/Much Music will prove that teen pregnancy still exists, as it always has. No matter what decade it is, the fact that teens have sex (or are raped) cannot be swept under the rug. To say that abstinence is the only reliable form of birth control is not saying anything at all. It is like telling someone that if they stay out of the water they won’t have to worry about drowning, instead of just teaching them how to swim. However the same groups that would ban abortion would likely state that teens “shouldn’t” have sex in the first place. Obviously that is their right to believe that, however it solves nothing. We could argue over what should and shouldn’t happen all we want, but we cannot control what other people do. We can’t control what people believe. However, the fact is that teenagers DO have sex. Regardless of how I feel about my son becoming one of those teenagers in fifteen years (I can only hope he waits that long), I will still make damn sure he carries condoms with him. Should I have a daughter, she will be getting a lesson on birth control. It is not encouraging kids to have sex simply by teaching them about birth control. I grew up knowing more about sex and birth control than most of my friends and still didn’t lose my virginity until after graduation. I had a handful of partners over the course of my very early twenties but never once got pregnant because I knew how to prevent that. I made ONE mistake with a boyfriend when I was in college, but because I was aware that Plan B existed I went to get it before going to class the very next day. Had I been “sheltered”, as so many parents suggest should be the case, I might have become a mother long before I was ready. I may have had to seek out one of those abortion clinics. Instead I knew my options and took the necessary precautions. This does not make me a slut. This does not make me a bad person. It makes me human. I am human and a woman and I take full responsibility for my reproductive choices. It was true then and it is true now.

We all make choices and have different views on a variety of issues, however the truth is that no matter how WE feel, we can’t infringe on someone’s rights to make a different choice. We can’t expect others not to act on those choices just because WE don’t like them. The truth of the matter is we can never truly know what we would choose unless we are facing that situation ourselves, and we can’t judge others for their choices. A woman who has an abortion may very well want kids, just not right now. She shouldn’t have to face an unwanted pregnancy and have her body scarred and forever altered. A mother who had a c-section, whether necessary or not, shouldn’t be forced into another C-section because a hospital bans VBACs. She shouldn’t be induced simply because the practice “doesn’t allow” her to go over 42 weeks. And a woman shouldn’t have to conceive just because birth control isn’t accessible and she “shouldn’t be having sex anyway”.

And what if she didn’t plan on having sex? What if she was raped? What then? Do we pass judgement on her for seeking an end to a pregnancy that was conceived under traumatic circumstances? Where every flutter and kick, every stretch mark, every labor pain is a reminder of what happened to her?Marking her irreversibly? No, it is not for us to decide what someone else can and cannot do with their own body. It is not for us to condemn or limit access to facilities or support for those who make different choices. It is not for us to tell a mother where she can give birth either, or how. It is not for us to decide when a young woman chooses to embrace her sexuality. We can try. We can advise. But ultimately I doubt a single parent of those pregnant teens told their kid that they could totally go have sex. In fact I’m sure that most of them forbade it. I’m sure most of them (like Sarah Palin, for one) told their offspring to wait until marriage and to abstain, and never once were they told to use a condom. That it only takes one time. That even if it doesn’t take one time, that doesn’t mean it’s not going to happen EVER. That the withdrawal method doesn’t work 100% of the time. No, it’s not the kids who learn about birth control who end up pregnant. It’s the ones who don’t have access to it in the first place.

It’s time we stop judging and condemning our sisters for their reproductive choices. It’s time we recognize that every time we restrict a certain choice we don’t agree with, we drive them to seek a more drastic choice instead. By outlawing midwives or home birth we make birth less safe. We force women to “go underground” to birth in secret. By closing down abortion clinics we force women into seeking unsafe, even fatal, means of terminating their unwanted pregnancies. And by insisting on abstinence-only sex education we are increasing the likelihood of teen pregnancy occuring, which in turn leads these young women to make the difficult choice of ending the pregnancy or becoming mothers before they are ready. Can we truly understand the difficulty of facing such a decision?

I can. I have faced it and I have family and friends who have also faced it. I confess that one time I miscalculated when I last took my pill and I fell pregnant. This was only one year before the pregnancy with my son. Before that point I had been of the mindset that I would gladly seek an abortion if the timing wasn’t right. But then it happened and I couldn’t even consider it. We were barely scraping by, but I was approximately 5 weeks pregnant and two weeks “late”. The initial pregnancy tests came back negative. I had to go for a blood test to confirm that I had elevated HCG levels. The day before I had started cramping and bleeding. We hadn’t even had true confirmation yet and the timing was so bad, but I was devastated all the same. I wouldn’t have even known I had miscarried if not for that blood test confirming the HCG levels that had dropped. I mourned that pregnancy, if you could even call it that. The technical terms is “chemical pregnancy”, meaning the egg hadn’t implanted yet but the hormones were there.

So cut to a year later and I have once again fallen pregnant. This time I’m seven weeks and the test actually recognizes it. I had to take a second test a day later, just to be sure. Again it was bad timing, and again what I thought I would do isn’t what I chose. I chose my son. I loved him instantly, after I got over the shock. To even consider a miscarriage happening again was like having my heart ripped out of my chest and squeazed tight. I couldn’t breathe. I felt like I was dying when I had that very nightmare 17 weeks later. I feared for him during my back spasms last January. This all coming from a woman who once felt that she would never have an unplanned pregnancy. But things change. However, even though I now know that I would not choose to terminate I do know women who have done so. I know the choices they faced and I know it was difficult to make. I do not know if they regret it, but either way I respect their decision. I do not dwell on it.

It is not my body and it is not my choice to make.

It is theirs and theirs alone.

So when an article comes out stating that home birth is just as safe as a hospital birth the argument should not be for or against home birth. In truth, no study or article should make a bit of difference when it comes to how or where a woman gives birth. The truth is that rather than cite these studies, we should simply accept the mother’s choices. We are all entitled to the right of bodily autonomy. If a cancer patient is within their rights to refuse treatment, and if a person’s desire to not be on life support must be honored in spite of family wishes, then so too should we honor the rights of women to control what happens to their bodies. The fact that we have to fight for that most basic human right, that we have to war among ourselves for our choices is the real problem in our society, and it is time we all have our eyes opened.

It’s 2014 and the war on women hasn’t ended yet. Don’t you think it’s time?

My son turned 1 not too long ago, so I feel that I am now qualified as a mother to bitch about this topic.

People, when did birthdays get so fucking complicated?

When I was a kid my birthday parties were mostly just family. I have video footage from the 80s of a three year old me running around in a frilly blue dress (and later, just my underwear because that was just how I rolled) and opening up presents from my aunts, uncles, parents and grandparents. There was ONE kid at my party in those days and she was probably only my friend because our grandmothers liked to hang out and gossip over coffee and we inevitably tagged along on those coffee dates since our grandmas were our babysitters.

As I got older I was allowed to invite 6 friends from school to a SEPARATE and SMALL party, normally held after school. It was usually pizza for dinner followed by cake. Dad only ever made up goodie bags once in all that time, for my 8th birthday, and only because my Nana had provided them along with the rest of the Snow White theme stuff she’d had leftover from the birthday dinner at her place.

Nana’s parties were the ones where balloons were put up everywhere, streamers were hung, and they had a “theme” of whatever characters happened to be on the plates and cups she’d picked up from the store (likely on sale, because Nana was smart and knows how to shop). The cake was made from a cake mix and then she frosted it with the usual icing (made with icing sugar and margarine) and then to be super creative she would have some sort of figurine on top (or a few of them). One year she had bought a Littlest Pet Shop cat with her kittens (it was probably a set that would sell for $7.99 today) and put them on top of the cake. My brother got Power Ranger action figures (the small plastic ones for $5, not the ones with small parts that kids can choke on). That was pretty fucking awesome because in addition to all the other presents we had the cake to look forward to and the cake had MORE TOYS for us.

As a tween I got ONE sleepover with about five girls, and I think one or two ended up not showing up. Can’t remember. My BFF was there though, so that’s all that really matters.

My birthday parties as a Teen were even smaller. A dinner either at a restaurant of my choosing or dinner at home with whatever cake I wanted. My Sweet Sixteen had a banner, pink balloons, pink leopard print streamers and a cake. My BFF came down with my Nana and Poppa for that birthday, because at that time she was still living in our small city of nowheresville and I’d moved down to the big city four hours away. Two other girls also came to the party. Anyway, the games were whatever we came up with (I think we watched a movie in my room? Listened to music? Hey BFF if you’re reading and actually remember that party can ya help a girl out here?). The food was…food shaped. It was Pizza from Pizza Hut and we drank Coke or Pepsi or Sprite. We ate potato chips by the handful (or I did. Not sure if my friends were “on a diet” yet or if they still knew how to let loose).

And obviously now my birthday is spent doing whatever I want and then I get to pick out the food and a dessert that I get a bigger portion of. Obviously.

This is what birthdays were like growing up and they were awesome. I have plenty of happy memories and while I don’t remember every “theme” I do remember the joy of being surrounded by my family.

But now I’m a mom and holy shit things are different! I thought a few of my friends were nuts for going “all out” for their kids’ parties. I heard of (and personally knew) moms who would invite every kid in the class/daycare. They would spend days on a cake or making decorations. Tons of stress and planning went into these parties, and I would ask why (in my head. To be clear I never actually said anything). I understand that some of these mothers were artsy and enjoyed making the crafts and that it was mostly for them, not the child. But still, I saw that stress and that work and I thought to myself, “no, I don’t want that to be my experience.” I am not like those mothers.

Cut to NOW, and even just before my son’s birthday. It’s like living on the outside and seeing the crazy and thinking it’s isolated, and then you become ONE OF THEM and see that it’s expected. Like seriously WTF?

I was asked by no less than five people what I was going to do for Hunter’s birthday. I wanted a small party with just family. Apparently that’s not something people do anymore. “No kids?” they asked, disappointed. “Well, his cousin is coming because his aunt is invited,” I say, shrugging. His cousin is a few months old. Also, apparently friends with kids now get offended when you tell them it’s just family.

Dude, I am seriously letting you off the hook here! You can actually enjoy the weekend without having a bunch of screaming kids around that aren’t yours. You don’t have to dress up or even leave your house. You don’t have to worry about cheating on your diet, or if you don’t care about that, you don’t have to worry about your KIDS getting hyper and ruining your evening quiet time. You don’t have to go to the store and shell out money on a gift for someone else’s offspring (although I make a point of telling people they don’t need to buy a present). You don’t have to buy wrapping paper or a card. You don’t have to endure hours of fake pleasantries with my family whom you only barely know, or pretend to care about what other moms think. You don’t have to threaten your offspring to be on their best behavior. I’m giving you a free pass here. TAKE IT!

But no, that’s not what we do. Instead we post crap on Pinterest and Facebook and share the fuck out of it and comment on how clever and awesome the mom is for making individual cupcakes into monsters or flowers or whatever. We come up with elaborate “theme” parties for our kids complete with a bunch of games because god forbid anything they do be unstructured. And then we comment on posts like this and bash the moms who insist that all that crap is stupid and they’re not doing it.

And then I read the post and agree with it, then read the moronic comments (because my god, it’s like a train wreck and I secretly enjoy watching stupid people make asses of themselves and I don’t work retail anymore so there you go). And then *I* have to comment on the stupidity of their comments.

It’s a never-ending cycle, people, and I’m tired of it.

So here’s my list of reasons why I’m not playing this game.

1) I’m not a Pinterest Mom. I have decided that for the purposes of this blog, the term “Pinterest Mom” is defined as that mother who goes all out with her crafts and her baking and her super creative ideas and games. I’m not her. I’m not spending my time coming up with games and crafts for my kid or myself to do. I don’t make decorations, I buy them. If I bake a cake or frost some cookies I did it with store-bought icing and sprinkles. Hey look, I cut cookies out into cool shapes with the plastic cookie cutters I got and actually managed to put colored icing on them…

…like, maybe for special occasions. Maybe. But if I skip that last step, be happy they’re at least in cool shapes instead of just spooned onto the cookie sheet. Frost them yourself if you want. Icing’s on the spice rack with the sprinkles.

2) I’m not a Party Mom. You know what my ideal birthday party is? Less than 10 people over for cake and pizza. Know what people expect of me now that I have a kid? Way more than that. I’m not that mom. I’m not the mom who will invite every goddamn parent and child in my friends list. I’m not the mom who enjoys lots of people. I’m the mom who would rather just have family over for the day and be done with it.

3) I’m not competitive. Like, seriously NOT competing here, people. I’m not saying all this to be edgy or to be controversial. I’m saying all this so that other non-competing moms who want to be friends know that I’m really not THAT mom. I won’t see your attempt at a theme party for your kid and then try to outdo you. I won’t look at your store bought cake and then make a point to say that my fancy ass cake took three days to make from scratch. I probably bought my cake too. It’s easier than trying to frost the damn thing.

4) I seriously do not care about half this shit. If you go all out for your party with the decorations and the food and the cake, you know what I’ll notice? How hard you’re trying to impress people. I’ll be questioning WHY the whole time. I’ll think of how much work you’re putting into something that’s not a big deal. I’ll see you stressing out over the decorations or hear you comment about how you barely slept the past few days because you were working on the cake and I will shake my head. It’s not that I think what you’re doing is a waste of time, because obviously the results are amazing, but just understand that I don’t expect it of you. I would happily attend your child’s party even if you didn’t do ANYTHING for it. If you said, “hey, we can’t afford party bags” I’d say “no problem”. If you decided not to do a fancy cake or serve food I would still come over, bringing my own food for us to share if the situation called for it. Or we would eat before we arrived. No gifts? No problem. Same goes for my parties. If I invite you then I’m asking you to come celebrate with us. I do not expect a gift out of it. In fact, save your money; Hunter has enough toys from family and you have your own families to bestow gifts upon. Truly the expectation of buying a gift for every birthday party you’re invited to could get expensive if your kid happens to be popular. It’s like the expectation of buying everyone a present at Christmas. It’s a nice thought, but please understand that money is a precious commodity and buying a gift for everyone could mean that we can’t afford to pay our bills. Same goes for birthday parties, weddings, and every other expensive celebration. I’m not saying those things aren’t nice. I’m not saying people who choose to spend the money are careless or stupid. I’m just saying that for THIS family, it’s not necessarily a priority.

5) I know how it feels to be the odd-mom out. Or rather, the odd kid. I grew up in a single-father household and Dad did the best he could, but he wasn’t “that mom”. We couldn’t afford to be that family. My parties were small and simple because we had no choice. Crafts cost money. Or time. Or both. Time is an important commodity and how Dad chose to spend it was to just BE with his kids. We didn’t spend weeks leading up to our birthdays slaving over hundreds of little paper decorations. We didn’t hand-paint any “goodie bag” items. We didn’t agonize over baking a fancy cake or making our party “memorable”. But other moms did. It made my parties look “lame” to other kids and they made fun of me. It made ME feel bad, but it probably made Dad feel worse. But really, it made me think that none of it really mattered. If other kids were going to be so shallow then so be it. Who the fuck cares? They obviously were only friends with me if they could get something out of it, and who really needs that? So rather than grow up thinking that I need to overcompensate for what I was “deprived” of, I’m going to just keep it simple. It teaches a better lesson to my son and his REAL friends anyway.

6) Parties are fucking expensive! I am horrified by the attitudes of some of the moms these days. In some of the comments on the various “let’s ban loot bags” posts a lot of them complain that other moms shouldn’t be so cheap. “Why have a party at all if you’re going to cut corners?” they say. They point out that they spend maybe $5 per kid and they have a great time with their themed goodie bags that were thoughtfully hand-picked by the hostess. Or hand-made for “just a few dollars”. Missing the point, people! It’s STILL fucking expensive. How many kids are at these parties again? Oh yeah, way more than two. There’s probably like eight or more kids and they ALL “deserve” a thank you gift for coming to the party? And we’re spending $5 per kid, right? Do the math. You invite even just 5 kids (what Dad’s limit was, with or without the goodie bags) and that’s $25 you just spent. You just bought $25-$50 worth of crap for someone else’s offspring on YOUR kid’s birthday! That’s $25-$50 you could have just spent on the fucking present! And then we’re supposed to have food for kids AND adults, right? And we’re supposed to be more innovative and “health conscious” these days so it should be homemade. I can’t just order Pizza and have pop? No? Fuck this, then!

7) If I don’t do all this shit I’ll be seen as “not trying hard enough”. Seriously, I read several comments by these Pinterest moms and a lot of them were all “oh, you don’t want to do the work involved. Your poor deprived kid.” They all say crap like how I’m selfish or cheap or that it’s really not that much of a hardship to “put a little effort” into a “fun” party theme. Then they all say “look at what I made!” and display a picture or describe what they did to make their party so much better than mine. You know, because they CARE! And I obviously don’t love my kid enough to CARE the way THEY care. Whatever, dude.

8) It all ends the same anyway. If I make a Pinterest-worthy party cake it still gets eaten the same way a store bought one would, or cupcakes from a box of cake mix. I’ll still have leftover food, whatever that might be. The decorations still go in the trash or are saved in a shoebox for next year. The goodie bags I’ve received from Jane’s parties usually end up half-trashed. I maybe keep the useful stuff but the candy is probably still in the cupboard because if I remind my husband that we have it, he will eat all of it in one sitting and then bounce off the walls and annoy me. He’s like a kid with candy, I swear. I didn’t need to babysit anyone’s kid to know what having one would be like, or to “prepare me” for becoming a mother. I’ve had my husband for that, thank you very much. Anyway, my point is that all that effort and time and money spent on the party? Not worth it. A simple and generic party is way cheaper, requires less clean up, and I can actually enjoy watching my kid have fun without watching the clock. That reminds me…

9) I don’t buy into the Structured Play nonsense. There won’t be a bunch of party games because it takes away from the fun of actually PLAYING with the toys. I’m also going to go ahead and have a separate party for kids and a separate one for family. The family party will be about opening the presents. The kid party will be about playing with the toys the family got for my son to enjoy. See, the problem with “party games” is that parents have to be watching the clock and sticking to a schedule and then they have to round up the kids for said game. Then little Jenny gets upset because she’s not winning. The birthday kid thinks HE should win every game. I’m expected to give every little shithead a trophy for participating as well as an actual prize. No thank you. Not happening. Put on a Disney movie if it’s raining or have the little bastards run around outside and play with the toys. I’ll be watching on the sidelines and chatting with the guests I actually wanted to invite.

10) It’s supposed to be about the fucking kids! This is the line that the Pinterest Moms like to use against me and the rest of my “group” of “party poopers”. “Won’t these selfish moms PLEASE think of the children!” they cry in a voice that sounds a lot like Helen Lovejoy of The Simpsons (at least in my head that’s what they sound like). And to them I arch my brow and cross my arms and say “REALLY????” Are we REALLY going to pretend that all these theme parties and decorations and fancy ass cupcakes and cakes are REALLY “for the kids”? Are we REALLY going to pretend that we spent “months” or “weeks” hand-crafting all these individual mini umbrellas or whatever the theme is, and that the kids were “happy to help” and enjoyed the whole party planning process? Are we REALLY going to pretend they weren’t rolling their eyes and thinking they’d rather go play on their own instead of sitting at the kitchen table every night or every weekend helping you with all this crap? Are we REALLY going to pretend that this awesome theme party with everything hand-made and “creative” is really any better than my store-bought, last minute party? Are we really going to pretend that kids WANT the healthy snacks and the gluten-free cake and the non-GMO whatevers over the hotdogs/pizza/sugary treats? Are we going to keep pretending this isn’t about us and our need to be better than the mom next door? Seriously, get over yourselves.

Oh, and by the way, my son had a lovely birthday on the 17th of May. We had chips, pop, a salad that my mother in law made, a cake she bought from her store with boston cream icing, and hamburgers/hot dogs on the BBQ. The guest list included my grandparents, Ty’s grandparents, Ty’s parents, Ty’s sister, and an older couple who is friends with Ty’s dad, as well as our ex roommate who is “uncle” to our son. My own parents couldn’t make it because they suck (just kidding; Dad had to work and Mom lives 4 hours away). My brother works pretty much every weekend and couldn’t get time off. My stepsister had just given birth to her second child three days prior to the party, otherwise she was going to come out with my niece. We blew up a few balloons and put up the generic Happy Birthday banner that we use for everyone. And my son didn’t care. He’s fucking ONE! He was more excited about the bike Grandpa got him and the wagon Nana and Poppa brought down, which was a gift from my aunts and uncles. He was more interested in eating the wrapping paper than opening up more presents. He smashed his piece of cake and not once did I hear him whine about how it was just a simple white cake with his name on it. His 3 month old cousin didn’t care that there weren’t any goodie bags. And we still had a fucking blast!

Best part is that his grandmother, my mother in law, did all the work. I got to enjoy the day with my son. I got to watch him open his presents and I got to visit with my grandparents. I got to actually enjoy the party and not worry about a schedule or carefully arrange decorations or any of it. It was totally effortless, and it was still an awesome party! No Pinterest needed.

I know I have talked about this at length before, but never in this context. I’ve always talked about the birth. How upsetting it is to know I could have had the home birth I had envisioned. How I felt powerless at the end. How I mourn that lost birth experience even as I enjoy my son. How having a healthy baby is not all that matters.

But this time I’m not going to talk about the birth. Instead I’m going to shed some light on what led up to it.

At 34 weeks, just after my friend’s baby shower, I felt my son move down. I was leaning over the back of the couch and rocking my hips, encouraging his descent. It was uncomfortable, but I could handle it. Only a few months ago I had suffered a severe back spasm that had left me in pain for three days. We’re talking pain so bad that I was nauseous. I threw up. I dry heaved and was sure my muscles were being torn apart. My son was my only concern. I was so afraid he would be hurt; that I would go into premature labor at 25 weeks. I didn’t. He was fine.

After that I had been seeing a chiropractor. I saw her regularly for adjustments to keep the back pain at bay and at 25 weeks after that first adjustment my son had turned. He had more room. Turns out my pelvis had been twisted. So this? This was nothing.

At that midwife appointment Jules was the one to check my belly. She was impressed that his head was already in position. She said things were going well for me and asked if I had found a doula for my home birth yet. I told her I had a meeting next week. She was the one who had helped me get in touch with Lucinda, and she was happy I had managed to make contact so quickly. Time was running out, after all. I can never express enough how much I love them both; my doula and my midwife.

Then Jules was on leave for a few weeks. This is when all hell broke loose.

At my 35 week appointment I saw Heather. She expressed concern that I was measuring smaller, not believing me when I told her that it could be because my son had dropped. Like REALLY dropped. I could feel his head where my G-spot was located. She decided to send me for an ultrasound.

Ty and I were just happy to see our son on the screen again. We were smiling and joking about how big his feet were and thought nothing of it. He looked fine. The tech said everything seemed okay; fluid was good, the placenta was in the right spot and our son was a good size.

A few days later we met with Lucinda. She seemed a perfect fit but she told us to wait a few days before making a final decision.

Sunday night I got the call from Heather. It had been four days since the ultrasound and I had been confident that everything was fine with me and my son. I felt perfectly fine and my son was as active as ever. There would have been news a lot sooner if something had been wrong.

That night she destroyed everything.

I’m cuddling on the couch at 8pm with Tyler and happily watching TV. She calls, I answer. She tells me she just got the results and has to discuss some things with me.

Apparently the scan turned up showing a smaller stomach than what is to be expected. She’s consulting with an OB. She tells me that my son may have a IntraUterine Growth Restriction (IUGR). She says that he might not be able to tolerate labor well. She thinks it’s best that I go in for Non-Stress Tests to see how he’s doing. She says that they might have to induce me. I will probably have a c-section. She wants me to start seeing an Obstetrician. I can’t have a home birth.

I am devastated. I’m terrified and crying and I just can’t handle this.

I am needle phobic and all I keep thinking is how I’m going to have to have an IV line and an epidural and a catheter. Goodbye home, hello hospital. Goodbye to all that is safe and comfortable and hello to my worst nightmare.

I am inconsolable. I’m sobbing on Tyler’s shoulder after that call. Devastated, broken sobs of a girl who has just lost everything. All hope is lost. I need Lucinda. I tell Tyler that I need her. I call her.

She is my angel, and from her I gain my strength. I am reassured that it’s still early and things can change. She tells me she will be here for me every step of the way. She sends me article after article on births that “seem impossible” where the mother was able to deliver without complications, naturally. She sends me information on IUGR and tells me not to worry. She tells me that I can STILL avoid an induction and a c-section if I just stay calm. Go in for the tests. Prove them wrong. You can do this.

She is the only one who understands. Tyler tries, but he’s scared too. My family is unsupportive. “It’s not so bad to just have him in the hospital,” they say. They tell me that if something goes wrong that at least I’ll be safer there. A friend who has had a c-section reassures me by saying it’s not that bad. That is not reassuring at all because she doesn’t understand WHY I don’t want one. I fear the needles and the loss of control more than actually being cut open. I would rather labor for days than go under the knife. I don’t want to stay in the hospital. I want to breastfeed immediately. I want my natural birth.

Nobody understands this.

Heather is still the midwife on duty during my appointments. I tell her my concerns and she dismisses them. She tells me it’s not that bad and that even though the tests are coming up fine, I should STILL see an OB. I lie and tell her I’ll think about it, but I’m not going to actually do that. I don’t want an OB. I don’t trust them to not induce me or cut me.

Heather visits the hospital during one of my many NSTs. I point out that all tests are coming up fine and ask if maybe they’re wrong? Maybe I can birth at home after all?

“I still think you should be at the hospital” she says, crushing me again. She says this in front of my husband, which puts doubts in his head too.

So I continue going in each week, still upset that I can’t be at home. I tell Lucinda and she suggests I just “change my mind” the day I go into labor. It seems simple, but sadly it’s not enough. Heather continues to tell me that even if I was to have a home birth I would probably have to transfer anyway. “First babies are rarely born at home,” she tells me. “You don’t know how labor will go for you. It’s more feasible for women who have already had one baby before to attempt a home birth.”

More fear. More shaming me into compliance. I am too inexperienced to know what I want. I won’t be able to handle it on my own. I’ll end up giving up, in the end. Might as well just accept it.

At 39 weeks I get the call from Jules. She tells me that the scan they were basing everything off of was a terrible one and she doesn’t believe it for a second.

By that time everyone has been telling me for weeks to just go to the hospital. Ty has started to agree with them. I am alone. Unsupported in my wishes for a home birth.

So when she tells me I can have one, I decline. I fucking lose my nerve and believe it’s too late. I am defeated.

And now, over a year later, I am fucking PISSED!

Maybe Heather was swayed by the OB. Maybe she felt pressure from the medical community that oversaw the maternity group practice. I don’t care; I will never forgive her for her part in destroying my birth plans. I will never trust another person to tell me what I can and can’t do. I will go into my next pregnancy suspicious of everyone and will outright refuse routine tests. Because of what I now know, I will only ever trust in myself and my body. I will alert Lucinda the second I find out I am pregnant again and secure her as my doula right away. I will go into every midwife appointment with skepticism. If they say I’m measuring too small I will likely roll my eyes and tell them “that’s cute. I did that with my firstborn too and he was born perfectly healthy at almost 8 lbs. But if you want to order that ultrasound anyway that’s cool, because I wouldn’t mind seeing my baby on screen again. However, I will still be having that home birth even if I have to go in for NSTs just to prove you wrong.”

And then I’ll probably end up giving birth before the midwife even gets to our house, just because I can.

There’s been a lot of focus on Mommy Wars and how best to end them. I can’t go online without being bombarded with ads and campaigns and uplifting blog posts about how we all make different choices and we can still be friends. Blah, blah, blah “we’re all in this together” yada yada “sisterhood”. While that’s all such a lovely idea, the latest campaign (a series of photos of happy moms holding signs highlighting their “choices”) still totally misses the mark here.

People, we have “Mommy Wars” because deep down we are all scared we’re doing it wrong. Or we feel we have to defend our choices. Or we feel guilty when some new study comes out praising the “other side” and feel we have to justify our differing choices by bitching in the comments section.

Seriously, the comments sections of any mommy blog topic can be ugly. Also, the sane and rational humans on either side of the argument get lost among the crazies. And then we are labelled as crazy too.

Yo, people! We are all “good” here. We all make choices and all those choices have consequences. Every single one. Are some of “their” choices not what “we” would pick? Absolutely, but that doesn’t make us right and them “wrong” or “bad parents”. There is no such thing as good and bad parents in that context.

Wanna know what a “bad parent” looks like? They don’t care about their kids AT ALL. They hurt their kids because they can, or neglect them, or abuse them or kick them out of the house because they don’t want to deal with them. Bad parents are the ones who should never have had kids in the first place. They are the ones that other parents look at and shake their heads and feel sorry for the kids and Good Parents are the ones who will look at that situation and offer to help. Good Parents are the ones who make decisions that work for their families and for them and for their kids. Good Parents are the ones who actually LOVE their kids and want to do right by them.

Good Parents are not “good” just because they breastfeed or use cloth diapers. They aren’t “good” for staying home or going to work. They aren’t “bad” either.

Here’s the thing, people. The good parents are the ones who care enough to make those decisions, whatever they may be. And calling one choice bad over another doesn’t make us good or right. It makes us assholes. Plain and simple.

The campaign circling the internet doesn’t show us this. The “new studies” and endless debates don’t prove us wrong or right. They don’t affirm that we are good parents or bad parents. Hell, these studies and articles can say one choice is awesome one day and then the next day another study could come out that affirms the other side.

It’s stupid. It’s the adult equivalent of the playground hierarchy I witnessed while volunteering at a daycare. “Suzie is my best friend today! Jenny is not,” only to switch to Jenny being the best friend and Suzie on the outs the next day. “Hey parents of X group, you’re totally okay…oh wait, no, you’re not anymore.”

Cut that shit out.

Hey parents, we’re all okay! Our kids are alive and happy and we’re not making any decisions to deliberately sabotage their chances so stop with the guilt already! Let’s stop getting offended whenever a study comes out stating a different side has a better outcome. Instead of being all “no, I do X and my kid is FINE” why not learn from it? Why not think “okay, I made a different choice but how can what I’ve just learned still be applied? What can I do reduce the risk or enhance the choice I made? Because really, all that study is saying is that one side has a more positive outcome in SOME things. It doesn’t mean you made the wrong choice, but learn from it. Look at what the risks are, or the benefits of the other side, and weigh them against what your individual circumstances are.

You are not a “good” mother if you breastfeed. You are not a “bad” mother if you give your baby a bottle instead. You ARE a bad mother if you don’t feed your kid AT ALL.

Breastfed babies do have a better outcome just because it’s nature’s perfect food for humans. It’s just a fact, people. I’m not saying you’re wrong for using formula, but if you do you should be aware of that fact. You should ADAPT to the situation. I’m not you. I don’t know what your circumstances are or why you’re using that formula. Maybe you had a low milk supply and struggled to breastfeed before tearfully giving in. Maybe you have a busy schedule and pumping doesn’t work for you. Maybe you just didn’t want to be tied to your baby 24/7 for the first six months. Or your baby was a lazy nurser or got too distracted or prefers the bottle. Doesn’t matter, but if that’s your choice OWN IT. If you breastfeed and read about how babies on breastmilk aren’t getting the added nutrients from formula (specifically vitamin D) OWN IT. Read the studies or the article or listen to the other side and really get what they are saying. Be critical thinkers instead of just critical.

Instead of just looking at these signs and thinking one woman is on one side and one is on the other, why not look at WHY the choices were made. Why not look at the circumstances and say “okay, this person weighed her options and chose this. She has her reasons and I have mine”?

“I had a natural home birth” vs “I scheduled my c-section”

We already know I would be on the home birth side. That is my choice and I totally own it. I own all the positives and negatives associated with my choice, and that’s on me. I totally own that a home birth means no pain medication. I’m cool with that. I’m cool with having a long labor (36 hours with my first was really no biggie). I own that my choice means I need to plan ahead to deal with the mess and I’m cool with not having a doctor around. I also own that, for me, a home birth is preferable because I simply don’t like being in the hospital. I am needle-phobic and I don’t trust nurses or doctors to let me labor the way I want. But that’s on me, not you. So those moms saying that a c-section was “easier” for them and “no biggie” do not offend me. For them maybe it wasn’t preferable to spontaneously go into labor because they didn’t have a support system in place to take care of their other kids on a moment’s notice. Maybe they had medical reasons. Maybe they aren’t freaked out by needles. So what? OWN IT!

A study comes out saying c-sections pose risks or long-term complications. Instead of covering your ears and going “lalalala can’t hear you!” read the study. Think about it. Say “okay, I know this is the risk of my choice. This could happen. Now what further steps can I take to reduce that risk?” Maybe skin to skin immediately after birth or breastfeed or use donor milk or whatever you feel might help that you can do so you can feel better about your choice? I mean, for home birth there are risks too, and I own them. I know that there won’t be any medication for the pain (our MSP doesn’t cover the gas for home births) but I’ve got a doula waiting in the wings for my next birth in a few years. She’ll help me manage the pain as will my husband’s support. If it’s a long labor then I’ll deal with it. That’s on me. I didn’t come to this decision on some whim or to be “edgy”. I came to it because after doing extensive research on labor and birth I discovered that the intensity of labor is only so bad as what is perceived, and that stress and fear make it worse. I wanted to be stress free. Hospitals and doctors stress me out. Needles stress me out. Therefore the place where I would feel safest and most comfortable is at home with as few people as possible.

That’s my choice. I OWN IT.

I own the fact that my son still sleeps in our bed. I own the fact that if my husband and I want some alone time we have to plan for it more than if he slept in his own room. But it’s a choice we make every night because it’s the best way to keep our boy asleep for long stretches. We sleep through the night. We actually get to sleep IN on weekends. So when we weighed the option of putting him in his own room and having to get out of bed whenever he woke up crying in the night or early morning vs having him with us and being able to just pop him on the breast or stroke his hair at the slightest fuss, while remaining in our warm bed still half asleep, we picked option B. And if a study comes out saying parents who bed-share with their kids have less intimacy then I’ll look at it and say “okay, so what can we do to increase intimacy and still keep our family bed?”. And then I’ll sneak out of the bedroom while our boy is passed out in the middle of our bed, turn on the baby monitor, and go pounce on my husband on the living room sofa. Problem solved.

As for the choices that we feel are “wrong”, well, then we can own that about ourselves too. You feel that vaccines should be mandatory. Own that. But accept that the other person doesn’t feel the same way you do. Take the precautions to keep your own kid safe. Yes, I agree that the non-vaxxers should quarantine when they feel sick or their kids are unwell, but they aren’t going to all do that. There will always be people in this world who do not care about how they are harming others. So instead of getting pissed about it, do something. Maybe limit your own time in places where you know there’s an outbreak. Wash your hands. Sanitize everything. If you’re friends with a non-vaxxer maybe just explain that they can’t have a playdate with your kid until your kid has been vaccinated. It’s all good. And non-vaxxers, OWN IT. Own that your choice may mean less playdates and overcautious parents. Own that your choice is controversial and adapt to it. You chose not to vaccinate, so respect the other parent’s decision to protect THEIR child.

Let’s stop finding ways to justify our own choices when another parent struggles with their own choice. Let’s support each other when things get difficult instead of saying “well if you’d picked X instead of Y then you wouldn’t be in this mess” and instead say “hey, that sucks. I know you are doing Y and I’m doing X, but if Y is still the better choice for your unique set of circumstances then maybe we can find some ways to make Y easier on you.” Or just listen. Sympathize. Don’t make it about how awesome YOU are.

In other words, people, let’s stop calling it Mommy Wars and just agree not to be assholes. M’kay?